


Trying to Make Things Right

by MonPetitTresor



Series: When Winchesters Run the World [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Archangels, British Men of Letters, Brotherly Bonding, Darkness!Dean, Forgiving Sam, Kind Sam, Protective Dean, Rebuilding families, Sam is God, Supportive Dean, They're acting like brothers again, and he loves his kids, god!sam, the way they should
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: Sam and Dean start their quest to fix the giant mess that God and Amara left for them.First in line... the archangels.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember this is a Sam-centric series. I'm going to do my best with Dean, but I don't know how well I write him or Cas.

The very first thing they did was head back to the bunker. It was a thing with the Winchesters, now that they had a place to call home. When shit went down, and everything else was going crazy, they’d head to the bunker to rest and regroup and try to figure out their next step. It seemed only natural to go there now. However, they encountered their first problem before they even left.

“We warded the bunker against Amara,” Sam pointed out. “Or, well, Chuck did. You think that’ll hold up against… you?”

Dean shrugged. “Only one way to find out. If it does, you’ll just have to let me on in.”

The utterly blasé way that Dean spoke was astounding to Sam. For someone who had preached so much against anything that wasn’t human, who had ranted and raved and done everything possible once to make sure that his little brother stayed human, it seemed like Dean was taking this all remarkably well. He looked so much younger; at peace with himself. The easy grin hadn’t faded off his lips. It was like… like a strange mixture of the attitude of teenage-Dean, with the body of adult-Dean.

Amusement curved Dean’s mouth and brightened his eyes. He leaned into Sam just enough to knock Sam’s arm with his shoulder. “C’mon, Samantha. You can angst about this one we get back home. Right now, I’m gonna celebrate the fact that I’m not only not dead, but I’m also suddenly like a million times more awesome than I was. Let’s go.”

“What about…” Sam slanted a glance over to Crowley and Rowena, who so far hadn’t tried to flee, though they hadn’t exactly come closer yet.

Snorting, Dean rolled his eyes. “Leave ‘em. Not like they’re gonna go blabbing about this to everyone, now are they?” That last part was said with a glare for the two in question. Sam was impressed when the two didn’t start immediately cowering under that look. Dean had always had a rather impressive glare; now, backed by the flash of darkness in his eyes, it was clearly enough to chill even a demon like Crowley.

This time it was Sam who rolled his eyes. He ignored his brother’s playing and instead turned to Castiel, who was just now starting to rise from the ground. Sam’s smile was gentle when he caught eyes with the newly made archangel. “Hey, Cas. C’mon. It sounds like we’re going home.”

“Home,” Castiel repeated slowly. He rose up to his feet, wings stretching out behind him before curling in. Bright eyes moved from Sam over to Dean, and tension eased out of Castiel. “Yes, home. That sounds wonderful.”

It took a lot of effort for Sam not to snort out loud. There was no doubt in his mind that it wasn’t the bunker that Castiel meant when he said home. To him, home was something – some _one_ – else entirely. The way he was staring at Dean made that clear. Sam gave his head a small shake and ignored it, the same as he had for years now. Then he closed his eyes and focused on this new light inside of him. _The power of God_. His brain could barely even begin to wrap around that or its implications.

Using the power was as natural as breathing for Sam. There was no deep concentration, as he’d felt from Lucifer when they shared a body, or with Gadreel. There was no stretching out wings, or reaching out somewhere. For Sam, it was as easy as picturing the bunker and drawing the power around them, gathering up himself and his brothers, and then… _snap_.

There was a faint tug that told Sam even before they landed that the warding had kept his brother out. Sam could feel it all around them even before his feet fully hit the floor. He would’ve changed it, too, if it hadn’t been for something else distracting him.

Someone was in their home. Someone Sam didn’t know – and who activated an angel-banishing sigil the instant that they landed.

Sam felt it as Castiel started to be tugged away and, once more, the hunter reacted on instinct. “No!” He flung one hand out to grab hold of Castiel, anchoring the archangel right there beside him. With the other hand, Sam reached out to the threads of power that sigil had made – invisible to everyone else. Everyone except him. It was child’s play to twist his hand and break the threads of that sigil. Almost as easy as it was to pick up the lady who’d done it and pin her to a nearby wall. “Who the hell are you, and what’re you doing in our home?”

A hand closed over Sam’s arm, warm and familiar. “Sam, the wards.”

Sam didn’t look away from her as he snapped his fingers. He felt the wards change and Dean’s presence immediately coming in. Still keeping his eyes on the woman, Sam took a step forward. He didn’t have to ask anymore who she was. It was practically screaming from her head. “British Men of Letters?”

“There’s a British Men of Letters?” Dean asked. He’d landed close to Sam and hadn’t hesitated to come up to his side opposite Castiel.

The woman – Toni, he could see, and _Jesus_ , Sam could _see her soul_! He knew her name the instant he saw it, as if part of him recognized that soul – was absolutely terrified. They were nothing like what’d she’d been expecting. Sam could see that. He could see all of it in her mind; she wasn’t shielded at all. “They came here to take us in, put us on trial for the things we’ve done,” Sam said slowly. “Mostly, though, she wanted to torture us. Break us until we’d give her whatever information she wanted.”

“Is that so?”

Any signs of good humor were gone from Dean’s voice. It was enough to jolt Sam out of the almost trance-like state he’d been in. He turned his head quickly and found Dean glaring at Toni. There were threat and promise both in that glare. This woman had done something incredibly stupid in the world of Dean Winchester – she’d threated Sam. That had never been a good place to be. Now that Dean had power backing him? Sam didn’t want to see what he’d do.

Before this could escalate, Sam reached out and put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Dean.”

“No.” Dean didn’t even have to turn and look at Sam to know what that tone meant. He knew Sam far too well for that. “No, Sammy. She was coming in here to _torture_ us.”

“And she can walk right back out of here and let her superiors know just how stupid a plan this was.”

“She won’t,” Castiel interjected. There was almost as much threat in his voice as there’d been in Dean’s. “She will stay and try to figure a way to bring you down. The thought is clear in her mind.”

Yes, it was. Yet there was no way Sam could let Dean kill her. No matter how pissed off he was or how much he wanted to send a message to these British Men of Letters, there was no way Sam could justify taking her life. She hadn’t done anything to them. Intent wasn’t action. If they were all punished for what they _thought_ about doing, there’d be a whole lot more people dead or in jail.

However, she _had_ broken into their home, and they needed to figure out something to do with her. Sam watched her for a moment, studying her face, and then he shook his head. A wave of his hand vanished her from the wall.

Castiel instantly spun to face Sam. “Where did you put her?”

“In the dungeon,” Sam said honestly. “I’m not having you guys kill her, but we do need to figure out something. Until then, she can hang out down there.” He could see that Dean was ready to protest and he held up ah and to stop him. “She’s not the most important thing right now, Dean. Right now, I think we need to talk about whatever happened back there with God and Amara.” That seemed a lot more important than the lady who could easily wait an hour or so in their dungeon.

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, come on. I’m not doing this without a drink.” He turned on his heel and walked towards the central part of the library where the tables and the drinks were at. Sam and Castiel both followed after him.

They gave Dean a moment to get himself a drink. Only when they were all finally settled down at the table did the older Winchester speak again. He sat back in his chair, feet kicked up on the table, and twisted his glass around in one hand. “Well, see, it was like this…”

* * *

The silence that fell once Dean was done was almost deafening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sam stared at Dean, trying to find some hint on his face that this was a joke. Only, even as he looked, Sam knew it wasn’t. He knew that Dean was absolutely serious. Even if he hadn’t been sure that this wasn’t something his brother would joke about, there was no real way to deny it, anyway. Not with the power that was currently inside Sam. _The power of God._ He was carrying _the power of God_.

The peace that Sam had felt before – that sense of rightness – was battling against the part of Sam that had always felt… dirty. Unclean. Not even the Trials had been enough to fully cleanse Sam of that sensation. For too long he’d been known as the Boy with the Demon Blood, the Boy King, the Abomination, the one who set Lucifer free. Sam’s mistakes were _huge_! _So why,_ screamed that little voice in the back of his head, the one that never stopped telling him that just wasn’t quite good enough, _why would someone give_ me _the power of God?_

Those two parts of Sam were warring so loudly, he didn’t even notice as Dean leaned forward towards him. Not until his brother’s hand was gripping his shoulder tightly and giving him a shake. That was enough to have Sam’s eyes snapping open and flying up to Dean’s face. He found his brother glaring at him in that way he’d once had whenever anyone – Sam included – was dumb enough to insult Sam near him. “Hey! I know that face – whatever you’re thinking in there, knock it off. I don’t give a shit what any of those asshats in the past have had to say about you. There’s no one I’d trust more with something like this, Sammy, you hear me?”

“How’re you so calm about this?” Sam asked. He felt like he could be if he could just get rid of the doubts that were eating at him. How had Dean managed it?

A grin quirked his brother’s lips. “Because for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like shit, Sammy. I got my brother here with me, an we’re both alive. Hell, from the looks of it, neither one of us is dyin’ anytime soon. Cas is here, better than ever. Nice upgrade, by the way, dude.” He flashed Sam a bright grin for that one. Then he gave Sam’s shoulder another squeeze. “I get the feeling this aint exactly something they can take back. Besides… we got a shot here, Sammy. A real shot of fixing shit and making it all right. I’m not saying we’re gonna make it perfect, but… we can do a lot of good shit with this. We can stop Lucifer, work on fixing Heaven, fix up Hell. All that crap that seemed impossible?” Pausing, Dean shrugged. “It’s not anymore. We got each other, we got Cas, an now we’ve got this new power. It’s scary as hell, sure, but we’ll figure it out.”

How could Sam argue anything in the face of that? Dean’s words worked to chase away that nagging doubt in Sam’s head, the same way it always had. He felt a little of that childhood sensation – so long as Dean was on his side, and he believed in Sam, what else mattered?

Sam’s lips curved up into a smaller echo of his brother’s grin. “Amara must’ve passed some of her wisdom along with her powers. That sounded almost grown-up, Dean.”

He was rewarded with a laugh and a smack to the head that Sam just barely dodged. “Screw you, Sammy. I’m awesome.”

“Yeah, you are,” Sam said honestly.

The two shared a grin, feeling that connection between them again that hadn’t been there for so long.

It was Castiel who drew their focus back to where it needed to be right now. He was the one to gently remind them “Those threats you mentioned are still very much out there. Right now, Lucifer is likely in search of a vessel, and once he finds one, he will not be kind. Heaven will likely be in an uproar as well. They will have felt the surge of power that would come with your gaining of powers, as well as the brief moment where this world housed four deities of absolute creation and destruction. They will be confused and lost.”

Heaven. Yeah, that was something that Sam had avoided thinking about so far. He wasn’t going to be able to get away with that for long. Especially not if that noise in the back of his head was what he thought it was. _Angel radio_. He remembered feeling it when Lucifer had been inside of him. Tuning them out wasn’t too hard.

It was the other voices that were really nagging at him. Voices he had a hard time pushing away. When he focused on them, it only took a second for Sam to realize what he was hearing.

 _Prayer_.

Holy shit, he was hearing people _praying_!

As soon as he focused on it, the voices became louder. Sam closed his eyes and fought to push them back once more as they filled his mind – his grace. Sam barely even noticed his brother calling his name. It was hard to hear anything over the voices. They were harder to push back than angel radio had been. It took some effort for Sam to finally get control over it. Eventually, he managed it, sort of turning the volume down. Once he did, the world around him returned with a sharp clarity that had him gasping.

“Sammy?” Dean’s hand was back on Sam’s shoulder again, and his voice was filled with worry.

“I’m all right,” Sam gasped out. He opened his eyes, not realizing how they glowed. “I’m all right.”

“What the hell was that? What’s going on?”

Sam licked his lips and tried to organize his thoughts. There was still a sense of awe in him at what he’d felt. The beauty of it. The _glory_ of it all. “I… I think I was hearing people praying.” His words held a reverent note to it. Without realizing it, a smile curved Sam’s lips. “Jesus, Dean. I could hear the whole freaking world _praying_. How the hell do angels function with this in their heads all the time?”

Everything about Castiel seemed to soften. His wings, his grace, his vessel. There was warmth to his grace that had Sam wanting to reach out to it; a connection that made him feel like the newly-made archangel was as much a part of him as everything else. “It is their belief that gives our strength. Angels only hear the prayers directed at them. I would imagine it is nothing compared to the prayers you will receive.”

“I’m not hearing any,” Dean said, looking torn between pleased and disappointed. He must’ve settled on pleased because he shrugged and grinned. “Awesome.”

“You are opposites in all sense of the word,” Castiel told them. He still had that awed look on his face that Sam really hoped faded away eventually. “Light and dark – creation and destruction. One cannot exist without the other. Together, the things you can do will be immense. Amazing. While Sam is connected to the life of everything – their prayers, their births, their joys and fears – you, Dean, will likely find yourself connected to the opposite end of the spectrum. You will find yourself connecting to those that leave this world. The power that Death holds comes from _you_. You will feel a connection to him and to his Reapers. _Your_ Reapers.”

That made a lot of sense. Dean looked like he was thinking about it. No – he was _feeling_ for it. Sam could feel the dark power inside his brother stretching out into the very fabric of the world around them. Dean was perceiving the world and his place in it. The small smile he wore said he was pleased with what he found. Then a tiny little furrow appeared in his brow, and his expression grew more intense, more focused. Abruptly, his eyes popped open, going wide and dark. “Son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” Sam was already reaching out to him, hand and power, and he felt Dean’s darkness curl around Sam’s light, the two twisting together against one another. Amazingly, they didn’t smother each other. They simply… fit.

Dean’s eyes met Sam’s, and they were swirling with dark smoke. “I can feel Lucifer.”

“ _What_?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

“I can feel Lucifer,” Dean repeated. His eyes were distant, seeing things the rest of them couldn’t. “It’s like… like there’s something there. Some part of him that’s sort of, familiar?”

Castiel and Sam locked eyes for a moment. In that look, Sam saw an echo of what he was thinking. “The Mark.” The two of them said together. It was all clicking together, and Sam knew they were right. He turned back to Dean. “Lucifer was the original bearer of the Mark, remember? God locked Amara away and put the key on Lucifer, who passed it to Cain. You’re probably feeling the leftovers from the Mark on him.”

A shiver ran down Dean. “It feels like shit,” he said bluntly. “Crap, man. It’s like… it’s twisted all through his grace. I can feel the _scars_ it left there. He’s so freaking damaged from it.”

“While Lucifer was not happy before the Mark, there is a belief that it twisted him. I believe now that they may have been right.” Castiel looked thoughtful, his brows furrowing down and his lips pursing for a moment. His wings gave a twitch behind him and curled in as well. “Amara undoubtedly felt rage at what God had done to her by locking her away. That rage could have bled through and created a darkness in Lucifer’s grace that then grew and twisted him into what he is now. It does not excuse his actions…”

“…but it makes it less his fault,” Sam finished. Those were words he’d never thought that he would say before. How was it that he was sitting here feeling pity for Lucifer of all beings? _Lucifer_? The asshole had tortured Sam for _centuries_. He was the reason for at least ninety percent of Sam’s nightmares. Yet here Sam was, feeling _sorry_ for him.

It was just… if this were true, if this was what had happened to Lucifer… it still left his actions as his own, yeah. But it was because he’d been twisted and broken from who he was meant to be. Like a human who did drugs. The person they were when they were high, or when they were caught mid-craving, that wasn’t who they really were. Plenty of family members had said before that it was like the person they loved was possessed. Like they weren’t themselves. This… this was kind of like that. It was still Lucifer, but… would he have been like that if he’d never had the Mark?

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you think we could fix it?”

He saw surprise flash through Dean’s eyes. “Fix it? You wanna… fix the devil?”

“Dean, if the Mark really did this to him…” Sam paused and reached out to Dean again, letting his grace brush against his brother’s. It was as easy as reaching a hand out; like it was just something he’d always known how to do. When they touched, Sam wasn’t sure what to do to get his point across, so he tried to focus on what he’d just been thinking about Lucifer.

He watched Dean’s eyes narrow. “Even if we pulled it out, it might not change anything.”

“Or it could change everything,” Sam said.

“Sammy… even addicts change after longtime use. They can go through detox, get better, but some things in their brains, they’re changed forever.” Dean’s voice was firm, yet gentle. That tone that said he knew Sam wasn’t going to like what he had to say, but he was going to tell him anyway. “Even if we do this, even if you fix his grace afterward, he’s still gonna be wired differently. We can’t just let him wander around till he figures it out. Not with the kinda power archangels got.”

Something sparked in the back of Sam’s head. A tiny little hint of an idea. Since he and Dean were still touching – grace and darkness together – he saw as his brother felt it, too. Only, instead of knocking the idea down, Dean seemed… intrigued. He raised his eyebrows and clearly thought about it for a moment. On the sidelines, Castiel watched the two as Sam and Dean spoke with the ease of two people who knew one another well – half body language, and half barely formed sentences. “You think?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “I mean… maybe? “

“We’d have to watch ‘em. Or find someone to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“But it could work,” Sam pointed out.

He knew, even before Dean spoke, that his brother was going to agree with him. Dean had given him that same look their entire life when he was giving in on something. The eye roll, the little huff of breath, the mock-glare afterward. Sam saw it and grinned. It earned him a shove and a grin. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam fired back, grin never wavering.

Poor Castiel, he looked lost, eyes going back and forth between the two of them. “What are you planning?”

The suspicion in his tone wasn’t exactly unjustified. It probably didn’t help at all when Sam and Dean both turned to him and let their grins grow. “We’re gonna fix your Dad’s screw up,” Dean said, and Sam added, “And hopefully not screw us all over in the process.”

Dean rolled his eyes and fake huffed again. “So, pretty much business as usual.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold text is Enochian

When Dean had been in Hell, he’d never gone very deep into it. He hadn’t known that at the time, of course. He hadn’t been aware of just how deep it all ran. But he’d only been as deep as human souls were taken. Those that were put on the rack to be tortured, to be _turned_. Once they got beyond that point, there were deeper levels for them to visit. A whole structure that he was just now getting to see as he made his way in deeper than he’d ever gone before.

Apparently simply wanting to go somewhere wasn’t enough for Dean to teleport – at least, not down here. There was too much power deep down in these levels. To get there and do it right, he needed to understand where it was exactly that he was going, and where Dean was headed now was somewhere he’d never gone before.

The fear that Dean had expected to feel when he descended into hell was there – he had a feeling it might always be there, right alongside the memories that had been made in this place – but it wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected it to be. The demons that saw him didn’t come near him. Many of them fled. The fact that Dean was now something that _scared demons_ was enough to make him give a grin that he’d learned down here. One filled with threat and promise both.

The further into hell he went, the colder it became. That was something Sam had warned him about. “It’s cold down there,” he’d told Dean, that look in his eyes that came up anytime Lucifer or the Cage was mentioned. “Lucifer… he runs colder than most. I think he spent long enough down there that the whole place just… it’s cold.”

Having Lucifer gone hadn’t lessened that sensation. Dean could feel the chill; strong enough for him to realize that he actually hadn’t been noticing other temperatures before this. He hadn’t felt hot or cold; not since their change. But he felt this cold.

That only reaffirmed his decision to do things this way. Sam had tried to insist they do it the other way first, but Dean had shot that shit down right quick. There was no way he was letting his Sammy come down here. Not ever again. Not if Dean had something to say about it. Enough of Sam’s life had been spent in this place. Though Sam never said anything, Dean knew just how much it still haunted his baby brother. Like _fuck_ if Dean was going to let him put himself through that.

Which was why Dean was here, strolling down into the deepest part of hell.

When he caught sight of the Cage in the distance, a shiver ran down Dean’s spine. For one long moment, he had to pause as he simply stared at the Cage in front of him. The power that was around it was clear. This was definitely something that was made by the power of God. Sam had worried that Dean might not be able to do anything to it, seeing as he _wasn’t_ the new God, but Dean had been determined to try. Anything to keep Sam from having to see this again.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t expected his own reaction to seeing it.

This was where his brother had been held for far longer than Dean knew Sam would ever admit to. This was the prison that had kept his baby brother locked away with two archangels, one of whom most definitely wasn’t afraid to vent his rage on the one he considered responsible for them being there. This was where Sam had been hurt. _Tortured_. Where he’d been carved into, bled, _screamed_. Dean could hear it sometimes in his own nightmares. Sam’s voice, crying his name, begging for Dean, _anyone_ , to save him.

Tendrils of darkness crept out of Dean. They curled around his hands, spread out on the ground around his feet. The air around them grew even darker still.

Gathering that darkness, he stepped forward.

* * *

Having Castiel at his side felt far better than it probably should have. Sam knew that he had power now – he knew that there was no way Lucifer could touch him and hurt him. Not with what Sam was now made of. Nothing Lucifer could do would be able to harm him again. And yet… Sam still drew strength from feeling Castiel beside him. From knowing that his friend – _His archangel_ , a part of him whispered – would be right there with him the entire time.

Tracking Lucifer down was as easy as thinking of him. But finding him wasn’t what Sam needed first. First, he needed something else. He needed a vessel to put him in.

Castiel was a great help there. “You have the power to make his vessel,” Castiel told him. He’d looked a bit hesitant, his lips pressing together for one brief moment, but in the end, his natural bluntness won out. It was a trait about him that Sam loved. Even if it hurt, Castiel would always give him the facts. “Taking a bit of the DNA from your own vessel, you can nurture it, grow it into something more. You will be able to do the same with Dean’s.”

That was what Sam had done. He’d taken a tiny bit from Dean before he left, and then a bit from himself, and under Castiel’s guidance, Sam had nurtured those bits, grown them into something that was…that was like them, and yet not. Vessels that looked just slightly like them. Dean’s was a bit taller, slightly more slender. The hair was darker, and Sam had made sure that the eyes were brown, not green. He wanted nothing to walk around with his brother’s eyes. The curve of the mouth, though, the shape of the nose, even his hands, those were all Dean.

The vessel from Sam was close to Dean’s in height, maybe off by an inch or two, and was also slender reminiscent of Sam’s early days at Stanford. Only this wasn’t brought on by a lifetime of eating too little. This was just how the body was made to be. The hair was a light brown, almost edging towards blond, and the face was just a bit more angular. The eyes were a brown to match the other, and again, the smile was a bit like Sam’s, as were other parts. The ears. The wide shoulders.

They could’ve been their kids, if either had ever had any.

But that part of things was done now. The vessels were ready. Now… now it was time for the part of their plan that wasn’t going to be easy. Now, Sam prayed, unsure of who it was that he was praying to anymore – would Chuck still hear it? – hoping that they weren’t about to make a giant mistake just hours into their new powers. _Please, let us get this right. Please._

* * *

They met in the middle of the Mojave desert. The Winchesters had chosen this place deliberately because it placed them far, far away from any people who might see what was happening, or might be accidentally hurt by it. The two vessels were set there in the sand, and Sam was reaching out to try and find Lucifer’s grace once more even as he felt Dean arrive with a familiar grace in tow.

Dean wasted no time once he arrived in taking the grace he held and pouring it down into the body modeled from him. The darkness he was made of worked like a Cage, trapping Michael’s essence inside and forcing it down into the vessel lying there. He knelt beside the vessel and put his hand on its chest, not just putting Michael inside, but holding him there, keeping him from trying to run.

When Dean straightened up again, there was rage just barely banked in his eyes. But there was no hesitance in his step as he walked over to stand with Sam and Castiel. “Let’s do this.”

With both Castiel and Dean there, one on either side of him, it was so much easier for Sam to stretch himself out to where Lucifer was floating, still searching for a vessel. In the blink of an eye, Sam vanished. Another blink and he was back, Lucifer held firmly in his grasp. Sam didn’t move to stand over the other vessel yet. First, there was something that he and Dean needed to do.

Castiel moved back to stand by the vessels, watching over the slowly wakening Michael and guarding their backs, leaving the Winchesters free to do what needed to be done.

Together, Sam and Dean reached out, their hands spread out on either side of them. They kept Lucifer there, pinned between them, and his Truce Voice rang out all around them, a furious shriek of rage and fear. “ **What are you doing?** ” he demanded, twisting and turning to try and break free. “ **What do you think you are doing? Let go of me**!”

“Like hell, buddy,” Dean snapped at him. He had no issue gripping a fist in the air and forcing Lucifer back down to the ground. “Why don’t you just stay there like a good little bitch and let us save your ass? Cause, trust me, I got no problem making damn sure you do.”

Sam smothered a sigh. “Dean.”

“What?” All innocent, Dean looked up at him. “Just giving him fair warning, Sammy.”

There was no point in arguing with him. Dean was going to be Dean, no matter what Sam said or did. If this was all he did to Lucifer, the guy was getting off lightly. “Let’s just do this, all right?”

What they were going to do next was something that neither one of them was entirely sure they were capable of. They were running on instinct and hope here. Or, ‘spit and a prayer’, as Dean put it. The first part was all up to Dean, and Sam could only stand there and keep watch as his brother reached out a hand to Lucifer and the pieces of darkness that ran through his grace.

The darkness that made up Dean’s new self reached out and stretched all along Lucifer’s grace. It ran over him, far gentler than Dean’s words had suggested it would be, and sought out all the dark places it could find. Those little pieces that had been left behind from the dark that had crept past the lock. Nothing of the Mark itself remained, Sam could see that for himself, but the dark that had seeped past it? The twisted anger that had bled over from Amara? _That_ was still there, darkening Lucifer’s grace, marking it in a way that Sam was all too familiar with.

Seeing Lucifer’s grace like this, feeling it, was terrifying and thrilling. There was nothing and no one in Sam’s life that had ever scared him more than this being right here. Yet, as Sam stood over him now, the comfortable weight of his new power right there inside him – how could he be afraid? There was nothing Lucifer could do to hurt him.

Nothing.

That realization flooded Sam in a way it hadn’t entirely managed before. He knew his eyes were wide as he watched Dean work, and a soft smile was starting to curve his lips. _Lucifer couldn’t hurt him anymore_. That rang through Sam’s own grace with a clarity and purity that was healing. It felt like the holy fire had felt when it’d burned the darkness from inside Sam. This knowledge was burning out some of the darkness that had been left from Sam’s time with Lucifer. Some of those chains that had bound him were gone now. They fell from him, and Sam felt lighter. Freer.

When it came time for Sam to step forward, the last of the darkness pulled free from Lucifer’s grace, it was easier than he’d thought it would be to reach his hands out. He didn’t just use his power to pin Lucifer down the way that Dean had. No – Sam reached out his hands and cupped Lucifer’s true face with his palms. The size difference was immense – angels were so much bigger than a human mind could comprehend – yet Sam didn’t feel small. He felt strong. Sure. Powerful. “ **Heylel**.”

Lucifer’s many eyes went wide and his wings spread out, only to curl back in again. With the darkness gone, he was different. Not healed yet, no, but less _angry_. He was watching Sam without anger now. Instead, his eyes and wings showed his confusion. “ **Father?** ” That question carried layers to it. It was clear he didn’t understand how it was that he was sensing his father’s power, and Sam, all bound together as one.

Sam smiled gently at him. Enochian rolled effortlessly off his tongue, without the fear that had once accompanied it. “ **All will be well.** ” With that soft promise, Sam let the power slide out of him, over one of his oldest sons, his beautiful Morning Star, and with each inch that he touched, the scars that were there slowly faded away. All the damage that darkness had done, the damage caused by time beyond imagining spent inside of that terrifying prison, all of it began to melt away in a wash of new, pure grace. Untainted by anything.

This wouldn’t take away the mental scarring that all of these things had caused. But Lucifer’s grace would no longer be actively poisoning him, hurting him. He’d be free of pain for the first time since the Mark had been placed on him. Untouched by the dark – free to make his own decisions and his own choices without anything influencing it.

When Sam let go, he found himself smiling in awe up at the brightest of all the angels. In that moment he could easily see why Lucifer had been called the Morning Star – the most beautiful of all God’s angels. He was bright and pure and _amazing_.

“Woah,” Dean breathed out beside him. “Holy shit.”

Sam’s smile grew. “ **Come down. I have a vessel for you here. It will be easier to talk and explain things if you are in a human form.** ”

“ **I have questions,** ” Lucifer said.

“ **I am quite sure you do.** ” With one hand, Sam gestured at the vessel. “ **Come, Heylel. Let us talk.** ”

The light of Lucifer’s grace began to shift and fold in ways that Sam knew far too intimately. Beside him, he felt Dean lean in, nudging him with his arm. “Dude, since when do you know Enochian?”

The look Sam gave him clearly asked just how stupid Dean was. Sam waited a moment as a sheepish look cross his brother’s face, making sure it sank in, and then shook his head. “I get the feeling languages aren’t gonna be a problem, anyways. You telling me you _didn’t_ understand that?” At the surprised look Dean gave him – apparently, he’d been so caught up in Sam _speaking_ it that he hadn’t really paid attention to how _he_ understood it – Sam chuckled. “Yeah. Kinda comes with the territory, I’m guessing.”

The light around them began to shift and change and dim. Together, the brothers turned themselves to face the two archangels who were now near the vessels. Castiel kept up his guard, wings and grace at the ready, looking every inch the proud soldier that he’d once been back when they’d first met him, yet powered by the love and emotions that he’d learned at their side. The way he watched the two archangels – Michael, who was already on his feet, and Lucifer, _Heylel,_ who was slowly rising to his feet – made it clear he was ready to do what needed to be done. How he shifted to place himself between them and Sam and Dean, how he spread all six of his wings out in open threat, it made it equally clear who he was here to protect.

“Who…” Michael croaked out the word, clearly adjusting to having a vessel once more, to being * _free*_. His grace showed signs of strain from the cage; Sam made a mental note to reach out and heal him as well very soon. For now, Michael cleared his throat, and he clearly drew himself up straight. “Who are you?” he asked Castiel. Then his eyes went to Sam and Dean, the confusion there showing bright. “And what is happening here?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Sam said slowly.

Beside him, Dean snorted. “Not really.” He paid no attention to the way that Sam frantically turned to him and started to mouth ‘No!’ at him. Dean just crossed his arms over his chest and gave it to them straight – the same way he’d want it if he were in their shoes. “You weren’t up here, so you don’t know, but Amara got free an she was going to kill off your Dad and the whole world. When I went to kill her, she ended up talking with your Dad, and they worked out their shit. Once they did, they decided to fuck off an try again somewhere else, but before they did they set Sammy and me up to take their places in this world.” A wide grin stretched across Dean’s lips and lit up his eyes. He leaned to the side and elbowed Sam, who elbowed him back – _hard_. “Meet your new Daddy.”

“Dean!”

“I’m not gonna draw this out and feed them a bunch of crap, Sammy,” Dean said flatly. He turned a glare Sam’s way. “I left it up to you, you’d take all day trying to explain it to them. Even if I don’t like ‘em, they deserve to know right up front what’s going on.”

Sam scowled at him, and a snap of thunder rumbled off in the distance. “That doesn’t mean you gotta lay it out like that. There’re nicer ways to do this!”

“Yeah, well, considering the shit these two have caused, maybe I’m not feeling all that charitable.” Dean’s scowl was just as fierce as Sam’s. Overhead, the thunder grew a bit closer, and the clouds began to roll in, darkening the sky.

There was no telling how the argument might’ve gone if it hadn’t been for Castiel stepping in. “Perhaps we can save this for later.” His eyes drifted up to the sky and then back down to them. “When you both have more control, maybe.”

That brought Sam and Dean’s attention to the world around them and what their annoyance with one another was causing. Immediately, Sam flushed, ducking his head a little, and Dean swore softly. The thunder stopped and the clouds dissipated, though. It was startling and a bit humbling to realize just what they’d been causing without meaning to. Neither one of them knew their powers well enough to risk accidentally setting off something just because they were getting a little bit annoyed with each other.

Sam drew in a breath and blew it back out slowly. They needed to focus right now. Once they got this dealt with, well, they’d have time then to sit down and actually think a little. _Once we deal with this and get this British Men of Letters stuff taken care of, and Heaven – can’t forget Heaven._ Angel radio was still in a panic. The number of things on their plates were gradually adding up. Any chances to sit and think and panic weren’t going to come anytime soon.

When Sam opened his eyes again, everyone was looking at him. He tried not to flinch at the way they were all staring at him. Instead, he focused on what they’d initially come here for. They had a purpose here. One they shouldn’t forget.

“Listen,” Sam said gently, holding his hands out low in a sign of peace. “I know this all seems crazy, okay? It does from our end too, trust me. But it is what it is, and there isn’t any changing it. As weird as it may seem, Chuck and Amara left us in charge, and right now, we’re just trying to do the best that we can with that?”

“By doing what?” Heylel asked. And in that question, in the curious yet cautious tone, Sam honestly heard _Heylel._ The one that rose up in memories in his grace. No, not memories. More like… _understanding_. Like this grace just _knew_ the angels in front of them, how they were supposed to be, and _Heylel_ was how Lucifer had always been meant to be. The darkness had been the one to change that.

All of that softened Sam’s expression into one that none of them had thought they’d ever see directed towards that particular archangel. “By giving you guys a second chance.” Sam looked back and forth between the two brothers now, and he knew the plan he’d chosen was the right one. This was the right thing to do. “Wearing the Mark damaged your grace and turned it dark, Lucifer. Amara spent ages inside that prison, and her rage was huge. There was nowhere else for it to bleed out except for into you. It changed your grace – changed _you_. Dean took that darkness back, and I healed you, but you’ve still gone through some serious crap, and that kind of stuff doesn’t have an instant heal. Trust me, I know.”

There was a flash of something – was that _guilt_? – that went through Lucifer’s grace.

Sam took a step forward, waving off both Dean and Castiel’s low protests. He wasn’t scared of these two. Not anymore.

When he came to a stop in front of them, he was smiling. “You two were meant to be brothers. The first two, and the closest. Humans changed all that, and the Mark just made it worse. An then you two got so caught up in your anger and your fighting, you forgot the first lessons. The most important ones. So,” Slowly, Sam lifted a hand towards each of them, ever so gently laying his palms against their chests. “I’m going to help remind you.”

What Sam did next was yet another thing he was counting on instinct to help him through. He let his power flow out through his hands and curled it inside of the vessels, tracing over every single inch of them – taking the time to heal Michael along the way – and locking the power of the archangels inside. He didn’t take their grace away, didn’t make them _human_ , not completely. But… they were as good as. Their grace would heal any injuries on their bodies, albeit a bit slower than normal. They’d be able to feel things like pain. Hunger. Thirst. Joy. All those human emotions. But they wouldn’t be able to fly, to manifest their angel blades, to snap up anything. They were human enough to live, just not human enough to actually _die_.

As the power faded from Sam’s eyes and he drew his hands back, he saw the guilt and resignation that flashed in Lucifer’s eyes, as well as the shock and fear that hit Michael’s. Those two different reactions told him quite a bit.

“We’re…we’re _human_ ,” Michael breathed out.

Dean was the one to answer that. “Not quite. Close enough, though. Sammy made sure your grace is still there. You can feel it, can’t you?”

“You two need to learn what it is to be human. You both think you know, but you don’t,” Sam said.

That had Dean nodding his agreement. “He’s right. Lucifer might’ve got the shit rap for straight up hating us, but the rest of you mooks don’t exactly think all that better of us except as pawns. Vessels.”

“This is your chance to learn.” Sam studied first one and then the other, watching them carefully. Michael looked like he’d been slapped. The emotion was actually showing through to his vessel. Sam offered him a gentle smile. “It’s your chance to remember who you’re supposed to be. You two manage that, your grace will unlock, an you can come home.” He turned to Lucifer and directed his next words at him. “Both of you.”

“What’re we supposed to do?” Heylel asked him.

It seemed so strange to see Michael looking shocked and rebellious while _Lucifer_ was the one to be quiet, to ask after their _mission_. He was such a contrast to the being that Sam had known before. Staring at him, Sam lost his words, not quite able to speak past the lump that built in his throat.

He was saved by Castiel. The archangel put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and stood proudly at his side. “Dean and Sam are going to be busy, learning their powers and repairing the damage to the world. The humans are going to need protectors to stand in their place. Another pair of brothers, perhaps, to keep them all safe.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” It looked like Dean was pained by each and every word he was saying; there was grimace on his face. “But, uh… there’s plenty’a room at the Bunker. You two can set up there. It’s safe, warded, no one’s getting in, an there’re plenty of cars – that _aren’t my baby_ – that you guys can use.”

All of a sudden the grimace on Dean’s face grew stronger. His eyes went dark and a bit unfocused, and then he let out a heavy sounding sigh.

Sam reacted to it immediately. His power reached out to Dean’s, the two of them brushing together, and he realized right away what the problem was. Dean had finally latched onto the connection that he shared with Death and all the Reapers. They were in a bit of an uproar trying to figure out what was going on. Sam noticed something else in that connection, though. “Huh.” He looked up at Dean, surprised. “I thought you killed him.”

Even as he asked it, he felt something in his grace, some thought he hadn’t even known was there. _You cannot kill Death_ , it said to him. But there were more, different things. Memories? It seemed like God had left some sort of notes in the power that he gave Sam, even if there wasn’t a full download of information. Whatever it was, these little pieces rose up, and Sam closed his eyes, watching the memory of the Darkness as she sneered at Him. “You made your _creations_ to live forever – and they chose Death. I simply created a way to grant them that!” And thus, Death had been born, a product of Amara’s powers that ended up almost more powerful than her in his own way. For even when she was gone, he’d still be there. He was the only thing guaranteed to be there at the end of everything.

Death had felt the shift in power, and the Reapers too, and the Reapers were in a panic because of it.

“Go,” Sam waved a hand Dean’s way, using their touch to let his brother know that he understood. “It’s all right, go ahead. I’ve got these two.”

Dean looked just a bit skeptical. “You sure, Sammy?”

“Yeah. I got this, Dean. Go ahead.”

There was a moment more where Dean looked like he wasn’t quite sure. But he gave in when the call from Death grew a little louder. “All right, all right,” Dean grumbled. “Pushy freaking bastard. I gotta go deal with this. You two…” With one hand he pointed two fingers at the newly human archangels. “…be good. Don’t give Sam shit.” Then he turned and pointed to Castiel next. “You watch them. Shout for me if they start causing trouble.”

With no more than that, he was gone.

Sam rolled his eyes once his brother was gone. Good to know that there were still more things about Dean that wouldn’t change. _*Freaking mother-hen_ *.

Well, it looked like they had a plan now to go with everything. “Looks like you guys are coming back to the Bunker. Unless you’d rather go somewhere else?” When neither one answered him, Sam shrugged. Then he lifted a hand and snapped.

The four of them vanished.


	3. Chapter 3

Leaving Sam behind with the two archangels – three, technically, and wasn’t that freaking _weird_ – didn’t really feel all that right to Dean. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Sam behind at all, especially not with _Lucifer_ of all beings. He didn’t care how insistent that Sam was that this made him different. With their new connection, Dean had been able to feel what Sam was thinking. He knew his brother believed that Lucifer was different now. That he was better – healed. _Heylel_ , he’d called him.

Like a new face and a new name was going to make Dean forget just who that asshole was. Or what he’d done. That dick was the reason Sammy still didn’t sleep well at night, and why he rubbed his hand enough to make the skin raw when stressed, and a million other things that Sam probably thought Dean didn’t notice.

The only reason Dean was even a little bit okay with going was that he knew Sam was pretty super-powered now. He’d be able to handle himself if trouble happened. If he didn’t, well, Cas was all juiced up now too, and the two other archangels were mostly human. He wouldn’t let anyone fuck with Sammy.

That left Dean free to head off to his summoned meeting with Death.

Add that to the list of weird crap in their lives right now. Summoned to a meeting with _Death_. Not like it was their first meeting, but it was the first one where Dean wasn’t afraid he was going to end up dead by the end of it. He wasn’t just some powerless little human this time. He was the Darkness. Amara’s heir, essentially.

The power he’d felt from her over their bond, the one that had existed since they’d let her free, was familiar to Dean after so much exposure to it. Having control of it was strange, but the feel of it? Dean knew the feel of it. He felt like he’d _always_ know the feel of it. It was like the power itself spoke to Dean, and reaching out to use it was as easy as breathing for him. He had no issue wrapping it around himself and using it to step through the world to where Death was waiting for him. It wasn’t flying like the angels did – he didn’t have wings. Nor was it some creepy traveling that demons could do. This was just a simple… will. Dean wanted to be where Death was, and so he was.

Dean landed in a diner that he just instinctively knew was in Maine. It wasn’t a diner quite like Dean knew them, but it was a cozy little place. No one seemed to pay any attention to the guy sitting back in the corner eating fish and chips and staring out at the water.

Once, Dean had walked into a restaurant where Death was waiting, eating a pizza, and he’d been a whole lot more terrified than he’d ever been before. Seeing Death each time after that hadn’t exactly gotten easier – and their last visit with each other had ended like crap. Yet now, as Dean looked over at a being who had once been so terrifying to him, he found that he wasn’t scared. Not this time. This time, he walked up to Death with a smile on his face, and an ease in his step that hadn’t been there since a long time ago.

Dean walked right up to the table and didn’t hesitate to pull out the chair across from Death and sit down. “Hey, you called?”

He was more amused than he probably should have been at the dry look that Death turned his way. “Dean Winchester. As irreverent as ever, I see.”

Dean fought the urge to duck his head down under that tone. Okay, so maybe he was a _little_ nervous about this. It wasn’t like he was going to let that show, though. He put on a grin instead, one that had pissed off plenty of people over the years, and he sat back comfortably in his chair. The power inside him was enough to help him relax a little more. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“And some things do.” Death’s eyes ran over Dean before rising once more to his face. Whatever he was feeling, it was pretty much impossible to see. The guy had a poker face that could put even Cas to shame if he wanted. “You’ve gotten quite the upgrade since the last time we met.”

“You, too. I mean, you’re a whole lot less…”

Death’s lips twitched. “Dead?” He shrugged one shoulder casually and reached down for another fry. “Yes, well. You cannot kill death. Not even with his own scythe. Though I will admit, it took me a while to recover from. It was _not_ easy.”

This time the look he gave Dean was sharp, and Dean was smart enough to at least wince and offer an apology, weak though it might’ve been. “Ah, yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

The hard look stayed on Death’s face only a moment longer before melting away. He once more relaxed in his seat and continued to eat his food. “Yes, well, it seems that everything has worked out the way it was meant to be.”

“The way it was meant to be?” Dean perked up a little, eyebrows shooting up. “You trying to tell me this was, what? That this was planned the whole time?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Death said. Then he gave a small smile and took another bite from his fry. “And at the same time – yes, absolutely.”

 _Oh great_. Why the hell did the powerful crap always have to find a way to talk in riddles? That was the last thing Dean wanted to deal with right now. Or ever, really. Leave the stupid vague puzzles for Sam to deal with. Dean much preferred a more straightforward approach. That was why he chose to ignore that last bit and just focus on the rest. “Did you call me out here just to sprout some vague prophetic crap at me, or was there an actual purpose to this?”

Death arched one eyebrow at him and paused with a fry mid-way to his mouth. “Mind how you speak to me, Dean.”

There was no threat attached to that – vague or detailed. Just a warning laid over those seven words that was subtle and yet all the more powerful because of it. Death didn’t need to openly threaten him. His existence was threat enough.

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, one he wouldn’t admit to, Dean held his ground and refused to back down. He wasn’t going to let Death think that Dean was just here for him to walk all over. Not if they were going to be working together in the future the way it looked like they would. “I left my brother with two depowered archangels, one of which at least is responsible for practically every nightmare Sammy has, plus a brand new archangel. So pardon me if I’m a little short, but I’d like to get back there and make sure nothing happens to him.”

“Your brother is quite equipped to take care of himself. You’ll be back with him soon enough. He’s going to need you for what he plans. I suggest you give him the help when he asks for it – his reasons are sound.” Without giving Dean time to question what _that_ meant, Death scooped up another fry and kept on talking. “As for why I’ve called you here. You might have noticed when you gained your new powers, but myself and my Reapers are quite closely tied to you. You play a large part in our job. You’re the balance to this world, the death to their life. Dark to their light. So far, I’ve been forced to play your role in keeping that balance. It is a role I can accomplish, but for which I am not entirely suited for.”

“What do you mean?”

“My job is to reap souls, Dean Winchester. All souls. Yours included, one day. I have my hands full enough with those souls and with watching over my Reapers. Maintaining the balance of death to life, and dark to light, takes up far more of my time and energy than I like. With your ascension to power, that mantle now falls to _you_.”

Oh, yeah, that didn’t sound creepy and weird _at all_. “I’m supposed to maintain some sort of balance?”

Death gave a small nod. “Yes. You’re going to feel the power building in you over the next few days, as will your brother. The two of you are the balance of our universe now. He will feel and feed life, while you will feel and feed death. You will feel the souls that pass through you before moving on to their next place in life. As such, you will also feel when things go wrong and need to be corrected. Such as a life that should be dead, yet is brought back, time again.”

There was no doubt what Death was talking about with that last bit. Dean gave a half-grin that was part amused and part sheepish. “Sorry about that.”

Death just made a humming noise and reached out for his fish.

Quiet fell over the table while Dean processed what Death had said. It sounded like there was more to this gig than just _existing_. If just being there to be a part of the balance were enough, Death wouldn’t have said how it took up time and energy. That had to mean that Dean was going to have to do _something_. What, he wasn’t quite sure, and that was something he should probably fix. Especially since this was going to be his life now. A life he couldn’t – didn’t _want_ – to escape from.

“All right.” Folding his arms, Dean leaned forward and rested them on the table, putting his weight on them as he fixed Death with a serious stare. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Death smiled.

* * *

It felt bizarre to be setting Heylel and Michael up in the bunker. This had been Dean and Sam’s home for a while now. The first real one they’d had, outside the Impala, since childhood. It was the only real home that Sam had ever known. Now, it wasn’t going to be just theirs anymore.

They’d let others in before, sure. Kevin had stayed here. Castiel – Castiel was family, and therefore their home was his home. But to willingly invite these two to sty here? To give them rooms in their own hall, right across from one another? It was _weird_. Even weirder than seeing them in their new vessels. _That_ was going to take some adjusting to.

What had to be the strangest of all, however, was seeing Heylel.

There was no way Sam could think of him as anything other than Heylel anymore. That was who he was, who he’d always been meant to be.

Heylel was so different from the Lucifer that Sam had seen in the Cage, or even topside afterward. Everything about him was different enough to make him seem like an entirely different archangel. With his grace pressed down, there was no way to see his true form, but Sam could still feel him. He felt like… like water. Water, soft and rippling, hiding things in their depths both good and bad. Calm and placid one moment, with the potential to be dark and dangerous the next.

Sam had been sure that Heylel would be the one to avoid him, while Michael might be the one to seek him out, to try and demand answers.

Instead, as Sam settled into his bedroom, intending on getting a moment of peace before tackling the next issue, there was a knock on his open door, and he looked up to find Heylel standing there.

He stood proud and tall in front of Sam. It was a look that Sam didn’t quite recognize on him – one he’d never seen from him – but he’d seen it on Dean before. Whenever Dean wanted to ask their father something that he was quite sure he was going to be told no on, or when he was getting ready to go to bat for Sam about some play or game or something else like that, Dean would get the same exact look to him. He’d square his shoulders just the way that Heylel was doing now, lift his chin up like he was expecting to take a punch, yet squaring his feet as if to make sure he’d stand up to that punch.

Seeing it on Heylel’s face now, in this body that clearly looked like a Winchester, threw Sam back in time and had him softening ever so slightly. “There something I can do for you, Heylel?”

“You two saved me,” Heylel said simply. “You did what I didn’t think was possible, and you saved me. I was… I was wondering…” Pausing, there was a brief moment of indecision that flashed through Heylel’s eyes, a hint of pain that ran so deep, and then determination took its place. “I have many actions I regret, and many things to repent. But there is one I know no way of trying to fix, save asking you.”

Sam furrowed his brow. What on earth was Heylel asking him for?

He watched as Heylel visibly swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he did. There was a hint of pain in his voice when he spoke, and suddenly, it all made a lot more sense. “Can you bring back Gabriel?” A small, barely noticeable shudder ran down Heylel’s body. The pain in his eyes grew stronger. “He didn’t deserve the end I gave him. He ran to stay away from our fighting, and he kept out of it until the very end. Even then, he only stepped in when he absolutely had to, and he was only trying to stop me. What I did… what I did is not something I ever expect to be forgiven for. But I would like to do my best to fix it. I know the power it takes for something like this. I want… I want you to use my grace to help you.”

Shock had Sam’s mouth hanging open. He knew it, he just couldn’t quite stop it.

The idea of bringing back Gabriel hadn’t even occurred to Sam. It did now, though, followed by the realization that he _could_. He could bring back the archangel who had died for their cause. Who had been killed because of _him_.

More than that, Heylel was actually standing here offering his grace for Sam to do it. He was offering for Sam to take his grace and use it as a battery to help charge up Gabriel’s grace. Sam closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Deep inside his grace was the knowledge that he’d need; it sprang up the instant that Sam thought about bringing Gabriel back. What he’d need to do was _right there_. And Sam understood now what Chuck had meant when he’d told Sam what it took to bring back an archangel. How it wasn’t anywhere near as simple as it was to bring back a seraph.

He must’ve taken too long to answer. There was a shift in the air and then a soft sigh. “It was just a question. I understand that you might not want to do me any favors. All I ask is that you think about it. Don’t let him suffer because of your rightful hatred of me.”

Those words hit Sam like a blow. His eyes snapped open in just enough time to see Heylel turning to walk away. Before he’d even gotten a single step, Sam blurted out “I don’t hate you.” He saw as Heylel froze, though he didn’t turn around, and Sam knew he needed to speak fast. This might be the only chance he got to say this for a while. “I don’t hate you, Heylel. Am I pissed at what you did to me? Yeah, I am. I won’t lie about that. What you did… those are the kinds of things someone doesn’t just * _forget*._ But, that wasn’t… it wasn’t you.”

“It was,” Heylel said softly. He kept his back to Sam, spine straight with pride and determination, the only things that were allowing him to even stay for this conversation right now. “That was very much me. I have the memories to prove it.”

Even though Heylel couldn’t see him, Sam shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. That was what the Mark and the Cage made you into. You were poisoned by the Mark and Amara’s temper, and you were broken by the Cage long before we let you out. What it made you into… it was you, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Look,” Sam let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to pick his words carefully here. This was important. “I’m not saying that you hold no accountability. Or that you shouldn’t feel guilty for it. I know you will, no matter what I say. I would, too.”

“What are you saying, then?”

“I guess I’m saying that….that I forgive you. I can see who you are now, Heylel, and I can see who you’re gonna be. That angel… you’re not him anymore. You’re someone so much better.” Pausing, Sam smiled softly. “Maybe it doesn’t mean much. I know I’m not your dad, no matter that I’ve got his power. I’m just one little human. But, I just… I thought you should know.”

Sam watched as Heylel’s body shuddered and his head ducked down a little. It was hard not to get up and go to him; to put a hand on his shoulder, offer some kind of support. He knew it wouldn’t be welcomed, though.

“Thank you,” Heylel said softly. “It… means plenty.”

With no more than that, he was gone.

* * *

Once Heylel was gone – off settling into his room, it felt like, as was Michael – that left Sam alone with his thoughts. And all of those thoughts seemed to be spinning and racing round and round in circles.

Sam knew he needed to be thinking about Heaven. Of all things, that should be next on his agenda. Just from what he heard from Castiel there was so much up there that needed fixing. Yet, every time Sam tried, he just, he couldn’t. His brain kept circling back round to Heylel’s request. No – his _plea_. A plea to bring his brother back home.

Some part of Sam told him that there’d been a reason God had made four archangels. Four archangels to match the four elements. Michael – fire. Lucifer – water. Raphael – earth. Gabriel – air. God had created the world, and from that world cam those elements, but the elements had needed anchors. Control. Something to tie it to. A weight to help balance the scales, so to speak. That was why, when He created those first ones, his beautiful archangels, he’d tied them each to an element. Made them the anchor for it in this world.

Without all four archangels here, the world was slowly getting more and more chaotic. Things were falling out of balance because of it. Sam could * _feel*_ it. His grace-memories told him how it should feel when all four archangels were here and actively using their grace, playing their parts. Having that grace even just _exist_ was enough to start balance, but true balance couldn’t be achieved without them all working together.

Right now, fire and water existed and were present on this earth. Their grace was alive, albeit locked down inside human vessels. But Gabriel and Raphael, air and earth, they were gone. And as much as Sam found himself wanting to answer Heylel’s plea, wanting to bring back Gabriel just for them, he could feel just how desperately the world needed it, too. It needed all four archangels – either the originals, or replacements.

Castiel, though an archangel now, wasn’t a replacement. He was something else entirely.

When God had first made the earth, the elements were simple, easy, and He’d created His archangels for them. But the creation of humanity, of animals and life, had brought about a new element, one that He hadn’t prepared for. Hadn’t thought He’d need anything for.

Spirit.

It seemed like the perfect element to tie to Castiel. After all, in a way it was one that Castiel already had plenty of around him. He was the only angel that Sam had ever met who so thoroughly fell in love with humanity, and who took their role of protecting it seriously. Castiel had given so much of himself over and over again for both his family and for the Winchesters. For the world. When Sam had promoted him, he’d followed instinct, taking hold of the threads of spirit already present in Castiel’s grace and tying them even tighter to him, and then to Creation around him. Castiel was the Archangel tied to spirit, the Archangel of Humanity, of Life.

All they were missing was their last two elements. The last two archangels. Sam needed to decide what he wanted to do. Did he want to make new ones, or bring back the ones that had been lost?


	4. Chapter 4

Sam didn’t bring up his idea to Dean until they were all back in the bunker and the two new humans were asleep. The brothers were in the kitchen, each with a beer, and Dean had just finished telling Sam all about his meeting with Death. Once he was done, it was Sam’s turn.

He knew Dean wasn’t going to be happy about it, and he wasn’t wrong. His brother looked at him like he was seriously contemplating whether Sam had lost his mind. “You want to bring back Gabriel and Raphael?” Dean’s voice was dripping with incredulousness. “Don’t you think you should, I don’t know, go check out Heaven and see if there are any replacements there before we start talking about bringing back those two dickbags?”

Sam couldn’t suppress his flinch at the idea of going up to Heaven. He still wasn’t quite sure he was ready for that yet. The thought of going and being around the other angels and having to deal with them wasn’t appealing. But this? Bringing back the archangels? This was something Sam felt like he could deal with. More than that – he felt like he _needed_ to do it. “Gabriel died for us,” Sam said softly. “He died saving our lives. If I can bring him back, don’t you think we owe him that?”

The grimace that Dean gave said that, yeah, he agreed with Sam, he just didn’t really want to admit to it. “What about Raphael?” Dean demanded instead. “That douche tried to _kill us_ , Sam!”

“So maybe we have him spend a bit of time human with Mike and Heylel.”

Scowling, Dean shook his head and took a long pull from his beer. “Why you gotta be so damn forgiving?” He used his bottle to point at Sam. “He tried to kill us. You do realize you get to be pissed about that, right?”

“Why bother? You do it enough for the both of us,” Sam shot back. He gave a half grin at the way that made Dean scowl even more. Then, leaning forward in his seat, Sam rested his arms on the table and dropped the humor for a moment. “Listen, Dean… you gotta realize, these guys, they’re not that different from us. No, listen! They’re not! Neither one of us did well when Dad vanished on us, and we definitely didn’t do okay when something happened to either one of us. These guys, they lost Heylel to the Mark, and then Gabriel was gone, and they thought he was dead, and then their Dad bailed. The Apocalypse was the last thing He’d ordered them all to do. Without the natural free will humans have, is it any wonder they acted the way they did?”

“That doesn’t mean they get a free pass!”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed with him. “But it does mean they should get a chance at redemption, just like the rest of us.”

Sam knew he had his brother when Dean shoved up from his seat and stormed over to the fridge to get himself another beer. He was grumbling the whole way; low curses that he probably didn’t realize Sam could hear. Sam quietly waited him out. He knew it was the smartest thing to do with Dean. Just wait him out until he had a chance to get it all out of his system.

It didn’t take long. Once Dean had another beer opened, and half of it drank, Sam could feel how he’d calmed down. His power had calmed a little; it wasn’t rolling around in him or around him anymore. Plus, that tell-tale line in Dean’s forehead was gone, and the tension was out of his jawline. That was as good as Sam was going to get, he knew.

With a quiet yet steady voice, Sam watched Dean and calmly told him, “I’m going to do this, Dean. I’d really like your help, but even if you don’t give it, I’m still gonna do this. I _need_ to do this.”

Dean scowled at him with a look that was pure big brother frustration. “You’re such a pain in my ass. Go figure getting God-powers would just make that worse.”

A grin flashed across Sam’s features. “Good thing you got powers, too, to keep up with me.”

That earned Sam a snort from his big brother. Dean finished off his beer and then tossed the bottle over to the recycling tub Sam had put in here ages ago. The fact that the bottle didn’t hit and shatter was pretty amazing. Dean fist-pumped at his achievement and flashed a bright grin before he turned to face Sam. The temper was gone from his face, replaced with resignation and something that looked kind of like amusement. “All right, asshole. What do we need to do?”

* * *

What they needed to do wasn’t simple. Chuck hadn’t been lying about that. To make matters worse, they weren’t going to be bringing back just _one_ archangel – they were bringing back _two_.

The only thing that really helped was that Sam wasn’t going to have to do it alone the way that Chuck would’ve when Sam tried to ask him for Gabriel back.

Dean took care of talking to Castiel and getting him set up at the bunker to keep an eye on their two depowered archangels, and then Sam and Dean made their way down to the depths of the bunker where they’d be the most warded. Safe. This wasn’t something they wanted to do where just anyone might be able to stumble across them. Sam had no idea how long this was going to take him or what it might take out of him. He’d seen how weak Chuck got after doing some bigger things, like going up against Amara. It would make sense that bringing back two archangels might risk making Sam a bit weak, too.

By unanimous agreement, neither Michael nor Heylel were made aware of what the boys were doing down here. On the off chance they failed, Sam didn’t want to disappoint them.

Preparing the room was pretty easy. It was already warded pretty strongly – they suspected it was a room the Men of Letters had used for spellcasting – and the extra wards that the brothers knew gave it that little extra punch to make them all the safer. After that, well… Sam was running off of instinct here, and he hoped with everything he had that he wasn’t about to screw this up.

Sam seated himself on the floor in the middle of the room. It helped him think, to slip down into a familiar meditative pose. He’d used to do this a lot when he was younger – back before his body had gone through too much to fold down into these positions so easily. Jess had taught him yoga and meditation, and he’d done it quite a few times with her. Those were good memories for Sam.

He was a bit surprised when Dean didn’t sit down with him. Instead, his brother stood right behind him, feet firmly planted to the sides, his knees brushing against the backs of Sam’s shoulders. He was a solid, steady presence, ready to hold Sam up and support him in whatever way he could no matter his earlier protests. That didn’t matter to Dean. He was here now, and he’d have Sam’s back – figuratively _and_ literally. “You ready, Sammy?”

Sam drew in a deep breath and carefully blew it back out. “Yeah.”

What came next was something that Sam would forever have a hard time putting into words. For the first time since his power had come to him, the younger Winchester stopped fighting it, stopped trying to reign it in. Stopped trying to be _human_. He let go of the restraint and restrictions that he put on himself and instead, simply let the power exist inside of him, _with_ him.

He felt Dean’s power relax and spread out around him, and the two of them brushed together, not reaching or grabbing but just leaning together the same way their vessels so casually leaned together. Neither one was trying to overpower the other. They were just there, together, the way it was meant to be. Creation and destruction existing together in a moment of perfect harmony.

There was no telling how long the two of them drifted together like that. It was peace, unlike anything Sam had ever known. The voices from angel radio and human prayers were finally quiet. There was nothing and no one except for him and his brother. The rest of existence fell away and left the two of them there together.

It was Dean who remembered what they were supposed to be doing. He was the one to nudge at Sam’s grace and gently remind him of their goal here.

The hope had been that Sam’s grace would be able to help direct him to do what needed to be done. That it might provide answers the way it had for other things. And it did. All Sam had to do was think of what he wanted, and the knowledge was just _there_. With their power joined together, Dean was able to pick up on it the same as Sam, and he pressed himself in a little closer in support for what they needed to do.

With Dean pressed in close to help support and anchor him, Sam gathered up all the power that he could, and he reached out into a place that no being was meant to go to and return from.

* * *

There were quite a few times that Sam had wondered what happened to angels or demons once they were killed. Human souls either went to Heaven or Hell, or they became ghosts. Monsters went to Purgatory. But demons? Angels? No one seemed to have any stories about where they went. Castiel hadn’t had an answer when Sam had asked.

Sam knew now. He knew what it really meant for a demon to be killed by the knife they’d gotten from Ruby – how it completely obliterated the demon inside, nothing left to go anywhere, as well as the human soul inside. But angels… angels went _here_ …

The Empty.

It was like nothing that Sam had ever experienced before. There was life in here, only it was a different kind of life. It was vast, quiet, and so very peaceful. Sam could’ve floated through here for an eternity amongst the sleeping bits of grace of his children. If it weren’t for Dean anchoring him, Sam might’ve done just that. Drifted and drifted amongst the calm and peace that was so strangely gripping.

But Dean’s presence kept Sam on task. It reminded him of what waited for him back on earth, and what his purpose was for being here.

Finding the ones he wanted was as easy as thinking of them. Sam saw them together, something which didn’t surprise him. The sight of their true forms curled up together had Sam’s grace giving a happy little quiver. It felt right to him to see it. To see Raphael’s larger form wrapped around the smaller one of Gabriel, wrapping Gabriel up in brown and green wings. They were together, as they should be, and Sam knew he was right in making the choice to bring them both back.

Though they might have made mistakes, they deserved another chance. They deserved to come back together. Heylel and Michael – Raphael and Gabriel. The way they were meant to be. Two pairs, which together formed a whole.

With gentle grace, Sam reached out to them and gathered his two children to him, cradling them against him the way any parent held sleeping children. Gently, so very gently, he drew himself back from the Empty, leaning heavily on Dean to let his brother know he was done.

Dean took the cue and tugged on Sam, drawing him slowly back and leaving Sam free to focus on protecting the two precious bundles that he held. He kept hold of them, allowing them to stay twined together, as he was drawn back to his own vessel back in the bunker.

Once there, it was a simple matter for Sam and Dean to make bodies the same way they’d done for Michael and Heylel. The knowledge was in Sam’s head that told him the bloodlines of each of his children, each of the archangels, and the vessels that would be best suited for them. He didn’t question it when he created a replica of Gabriel’s old vessel. It was the only one that Sam could think of him in, and it seemed that Dean agreed because he didn’t hesitate to help Sam build a copy of it.

But when it came to Raphael, there was a brief moment of hesitation, a moment of thought, before Sam settled on what was needed.

Michael and Heylel had two brothers as their True Vessels. But they weren’t the only ones with siblings. It seemed that Gabriel and Raphael had siblings as vessels as well – or, at least, half-siblings. Same mother, different father.

The vessel that Sam crafted for Raphael was female, older than Gabriel’s by a few years, and her skin was a dark shade of brown. She was about the same height as Gabriel, just a little over an inch taller, and was all curves and soft edges, edging towards plus-sized. It was quite a bit different than her previous vessels, yet Sam thought it suited the image he had in his head of her. The Raphael that these grace-memories showed was someone softer, gentler, yet still stern sometimes. Someone with infinite patience, who was a healer, a nurturer, through and through. Where Michael was their fighter, and Heylel their passion, Gabriel was their laughter, and Raphael had been their love.

Sam gently pulled the two archangels apart once the vessels were ready. With a delicate touch, he slowly leaned forward and laid a hand on the chest of both vessels, lying on either side of him, and poured his power down into them.

He could see it as their grace filled their vessels. Just like for the other two, these ones wouldn’t burn out on them, wouldn’t fall apart. They’d be free to stay in them or leave and come back as often as needed. None of them housed a human soul to be in the way.

As soon as Sam let go of them, he found out why exactly this was said not to be an easy thing to do, even with Dean there to help him. Sam had poured a lot of his grace into gathering up these two and bringing them back, and then making vessels on top of that, and putting them safely inside. Now that the job was done, his body practically dropped in a show of exhaustion.

If it weren’t for Dean’s quick reflexes, there was every chance Sam might’ve hit the ground face-first. As it was, Dean swore lowly and caught Sam’s shoulder with one hand even as he started to squat down and reach out with his other to pull Sam back. It ended with Sam leaning back between Dean’s legs, back to Dean’s chest, his head resting against his brother’s shoulder. Dean had one arm around Sam to hold him in place. “Woah there, tiger,” Dean murmured, keeping a firm hold of him. “Let’s not try and decorate the floor with your face. Bleeding isn’t really your best look.”

“Bite me,” Sam grumbled out reflexively. The words were a bit more of a croak than he’d have liked them to be.

Any further snark was cut off when the two vessels in front of them gave a groan. The Winchesters both watched as the angels inside woke first, wings reaching out almost instinctively to one another, likely sensing that the last place they’d been was with each other. Earthy wings threaded together with wings of white and gold. That touch between them seemed to be enough to help them wake the rest of the way.

If Sam hadn’t been so tired, it would’ve been funny to watch the way they both jerked upright with twin gasps.

Dean didn’t have a problem laughing at them, though. Both Gabriel and Raphael snapped their heads towards Dean at that sound, clearly disoriented and stunned, and Dean didn’t help matters by laughing again.

“What the hell?” Gabriel blurted out. It wasn’t surprising that he was the first one to speak. Yet, Raphael was only a few seconds behind him, only she wasn’t looking back at Dean. Her eyes were locked right on Sam. “Father?”

A tired smile curved Sam’s lips. “Not quite.”

Eyes wide, Gabriel’s mouth actually dropped open as his eyes took in just who it was that was speaking. “ _Sam?!_ ”

Sam managed one last smile, and a low “Hey, Gabe,” before exhaustion claimed him, and he slipped down into unconsciousness.

 


End file.
